


Bad Hair Day

by celticdreamz



Series: Fic Requests [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BuckHill, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:53:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticdreamz/pseuds/celticdreamz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr anon: [Hill/Barnes] one washing the other's hair</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Hair Day

"I beg your pardon, Ms. Hill, but I believe Sergeant Barnes requires your assistance." The disembodied voice of the Stark Avengers' Tower AI interrupted her just as she was finishing up her last load of laundry.

James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes had been living at the Tower for the past six months, ever since he had shown up out of the blue looking for his former BFF. Rogers and Romanoff had both been working tirelessly on deprogramming the former KGB/HYDRA asset. For her part, Hill had been trying like hell to keep Stark and, by proxy, Banner from turning Barnes into their own personal guinea pig "for science."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he hadn't contacted Rogers or Romanoff, but then Hill remembered that they, along with Sam Wilson, had gone to an abandoned Siberian outpost looking for more intel on Barnes' forced training. Exhaling a sigh, Hill closed the dryer door. 

"What happened?"

"It appears that he ran afoul of one of Agent Wade Wilson's pranks."

She groaned. Deadpool had been a thorn in her ass for years, and it didn't surprise her that he had "punk'd" Barnes in some way, shape or form.

"Tell him I'm on my way."

A few minutes later, her knock was answered by a grouchy, silver-armed asset wearing not much more than a pair of track pants and a frown. Hill's impulse was to look him up and down as though to check for injuries, not to ogle his physique. 

"So, what's the problem?" she asked, looking him directly in the eye and raising a brow.

"This," Barnes pointed to his head with his good hand.

Although his hair was wet, she could see odd, tiny sparkles against the dark strands. "What the hell…?"

"I think he called it a glitter bomb," he replied, holding the door open for her. "I've already tried washing my hair three times, but…"

There was no need to say more. Barnes' mechanical arm was good for a lot of things, but she doubted glitter removal was one of them. She tried not to facepalm as she walked into his apartment. 

Hill had never been in Barnes' apartment before, but wasn't surprised that it looked like Rogers had had a heavy hand in decorating it. He wanted his old pal Bucky back, and had given the space a decidedly vintage feel. There were old photographs of Barnes with a much shorter, and much scrawnier Rogers that she assumed had been taken before being given Dr. Erskine's super soldier serum. There were also pictures of the two men in uniform while they'd been taking down HYDRA in Germany.

Rogers wasn't the only one who'd helped decorate. There were also some Russian touches from Romanoff. Mostly in the form of books, but there were also other souvenirs like the obligatory set of matryoshka dolls and a worn pair of ballet slippers. 

"C'mon, let's try using the kitchen sink," Hill said and walked deeper into the apartment.

"I'll go get the shampoo."

It wasn't easy for both of them to bend over the sink, but it was a helluva lot less awkward than them both ending up in the shower. The hand-held sprayer made it a little easier to dislodge most of the remaining flakes of glitter.

"Y'know, this'd be easier if you had shorter hair," she remarked as she worked yet another handful of soap through Barnes' dark locks. 

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Steve's been after me to get it cut, but I kinda like it like this. Natasha calls it 'hobo-chic'."

Hill just snorted and rinsed the lather away with the sprayer. A few offending hints of glitter remained, but at least he wasn't giving What's-His-Name Cullen a run for his money in the sparkle department.

"There. I think I got most of it," she said. Hill then turned off the water, and handed him a towel.

"Thanks," he replied and took the towel from her. A teasing smirk curled at his lips. "Y'know, not that many women will come wash out a fella's hair just because."

Crossing her arms, Hill rolled her eyes. "It wasn't 'just because'. Deadpool is a pain in my ass, and you didn't exactly ask to get pelted with a glitter grenade."

"Still, you didn't have to come down here just for that," he answered, rubbing the towel over his hair.

"Call it curiosity. I wanted to see how much damage Wade had done this time. He can be a one mutant wrecking machine sometimes."

"Anyone else get the 'Maria Hill Cleanup Special'?" he quipped.

The air temperature seemed to drop a degree or two just by the way her expression and posture changed. "No."

Except that didn't seem to faze him. "Tell you what. Why don't I get dressed, order in from the deli on the corner, and you can bring me more up to speed on the Twenty-First Century."

"Why me?"

"You're already here," Barnes replied as if that answered everything. "Besides, I'd normally ask Steve or Natasha, but since they're kinda not here..."

Hill took a step away from the counter. "Maybe I should leave."

"Would it help if I said 'please'? I still remember my manners. Mostly. It's everything after that that's still fuzzy."

It actually tugged at her heartstrings a little to hear the plaintive note in his voice. The two people he relied on the most in this era had left him behind while they went in search for more answers.

"Fine," she replied on an exasperated sigh. "Just don't get any ideas about watching Sound of Music."

"You got it," he said with a wink, and Hill could see a glimmer of the former ladies' man Barnes had been before the war.


End file.
